The Return of Something Once Lost
by 15elliotta
Summary: The inevitable storm has approached as Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes prepare themselves for a difficult battle to defeat one who shall try to overthrow Great Britain with her growing army. As lives are lost and challenges of the greatest kind are faced, who will prevail: Good or bad?
1. Rise

**Ladies and Gentlemen, Boy and Girls, the second part of Vengeance is Mine is finally here. For those who have not read part one, I shall scream to you STOP RIGHT HERE! Major spoilers for the first part is immediately ahead, and you should read the first part first. Since I love all of you so much, think link is right here: s/9651733/1/Vengeance-Is-Mine. Anyways, for those who are ready to move on, all I say is this:**

**Enjoy...**

* * *

The chants grew louder as she looked down upon her people. She stood tall and strong, her pride illuminating off her slender body. She smiled smugly at the people who stood in front of her, screaming in anger and pledging their allegiance to her. And then she spoke.

"My people, may I guide you through the darkness and into the light of a new era! We have been suppressed for so long, for too long, and it is time for us to take back what belongs to us. Who will come with me to support my cause, to lead the others too scared to join us? Who will be by my side as venture to the unknown, to the better for all of us? Come with me and I will fight for you! I shall fight for all our rights, be by your side. I promise you this and so much more!" Julianne exclaimed in a passionate voice, making the crowd below her crazed with unfathomable joy and desire. "So who's with me?!"

The crowd responded just the way she wanted to; screaming and throwing their fists in the air in fury and with allegiance to her.

Her army was growing.

* * *

It was a late morning in March at the premise of Baker Street when a man cleared his throat. John looked at his flat mate, the newspaper blocking the detective's face.

"Something wrong Sherlock?" John asked softly, not looking up from his laptops.

"What are you blogging about this time John? A case naturally but which one?"

"The one last week with the-"

"Oh God John I told you not to blog about the unsolved ones!" he exclaimed sharply.

"As I have told you before Sherlock, it makes you seem more human. People are looking for that sort of thing, especially after the thing with… Moriarty." John said the name quietly. He almost shuddered when he heard the name.

It had been over three years since Sherlock jumped off the roof of Saint Bart's Hospital, and over a year that he revealed to the world that he had cleverly faked his suicide. Sherlock Holmes was definitely a genius, and he proved it by beating his worst nemesis, James Moriarty.

John shifted his weight in his chair, and Sherlock cleared his throat yet again. The name of Moriarty both made them uncomfortable, since they both knew that there was an oncoming storm that they were both going to face.

And that storm had a name, Julianne Walker, step sister of the infamous James Moriarty. The woman that killed one man that Sherlock had cared for as a friend. When the detective would close his eyes at night, he could see the scene of Harold's death play right before his eyes: The look in Harold's eyes when he found out who Julianne really was, the anger and pain was so great he lashed out, charged at her with his knife unsheathed. Sherlock would see the gun that Julianne skillfully pulled out, and the warmth of the blood on his skin and sharp crack of the gun echoed across the room. It was all a clear and horrid memory that haunted him, and he made a promise at Harold Wilston's grave on that cold November day. And that word was vengeance. And he would stop Julianne.

Both were aware of the tension in the room, and John was thankful when Mrs. Hudson's cheery voice rang through the quiet flat. "Oh Sherlock look at the mess you've made now!" she tisked as she looked at the table full of chemistry glassware. "I hope you cleaned out the fingers in the fridge like I told you to, young man!"

"Mrs. Hudson if you would be so kind as to getting John and I a cuppa." Sherlock said with a distracted tone.

"Sherlock I am your landlady, not your housekeeper!" she called back, her voice ringing.

"With biscuits please!" John shouted back, making sure she could hear him through the kitchen.

The landlady sighed. "Fine, but just this time boys."

Sherlock smiled when he heard the patter of feet going down the stairs. "Look at this John, something interesting."

"What is it?" he finally looked up from his computer to the detective in the room."

"A black cat was stolen from a little girl and is being desperately searched for." He slammed his hand down on the coffee table next to him. "We have found our next case John! Phone Lestrade and tell him to send over his best men!" he explained in an extremely mocking tone.

"Very funny Sherlock."

"Uh God John I am so bored!" he was antsy in his seat. "I need a case, and these papers aren't helping. Uhh London is so boring!"

"In my opinion I find that a very good sign for now…" John indirectly referred.

The consulting detective looked upon the doctor, and knew exactly what he was talking about. "The sooner she acts the better. I want her defeated." he said very quietly.

"Yes well it will come soon enough. She has been silent since last November."

"That gives her months to plan. Anyways…" Sherlock added to change the subject. Thumping was heard, and Mrs. Hudson entered the small living room with a tray full of biscuits and tea.

"Here dearies but remember just this once."

John chuckled, knowing that wasn't the case. Sherlock threw down his paper in frustration, and picked up his violin irritated. He picked up his bow, strode to the window, and played a Bach piece. Mrs. Hudson hummed to the melody, as it was a well-played piece in the flat. John took a sip of his tea and continued to write his blog. And soon enough, Mrs. Hudson went back to her chores downstairs.

The music stopped sharply, and the doctor looked up. "What is it Sherlock?"

"We are in for a long year John," and Sherlock said nothing more on the matter.

* * *

A man glanced at the paper in front of him, scowling. He sat in his most comfortable chair in the Diogenes Club, a meeting of older gentlemen in a room where talking is forbidden. He took another sip of his smooth whiskey and he set the piece of nice paper down. He used his free hand to rub his eyeballs, his stress level alarmingly high as it always was during this time of year. But there was something new on his plate, but not one where he concerned about majorly.

A man walked up to him and cleared his throat. Mycroft Holmes look at the standing man, the familiar old friend wanted to speak to him in private. The government agent stood up and grabbed the letter, and he followed his friend into the other room.

"Greetings Linus. I was not expecting to see you today."

"Ah yes Mycroft. I thought I would pay you a visit. I have not seen nor heard from you in a while."

"We've all been busy. I haven't gotten around to calling you yet, and I do apologize."

"Oh there is no need Mycroft. I do forgive you." Linus smiled. "You know, after all these years and my position in the government, even I am not sure about where you are in office."

The other man smiled. "Sometimes I don't either," he subtly joked. "In my opinion it is somewhat of a minor position."

"Well of course. Naturally."

"How may I help you this fine March day, Linus?" Mycroft questioned, but by deducing the way that his friend stood and the way Linus's fingers shook, he knew exactly why he was here.

"I assume that you have gotten a letter from a concerning party?"

"I have just read it, yes."

"And what do you think of it?"

"Nothing more than just mere letters on a page my dear friend," Mycroft lied.

"If you say so, but I do beg to differ," replied Linus, with a tint of concern in his words.

"What I am saying is that we do not worry about it yet. Uprisings can always falter quickly since several factors are involved. And when that does, it will fall immediately. I encourage you not to panic over this letter," Mycoft picked up the letter pointedly. "As I said, just letters on a page. Nothing more Linus. Is that all?"

The older man cleared his throat. "I do believe so. Shall we go out for lunch sometimes, just as old friends as we are. To catch up with what has happened in our lives over the years?"

"I shall love to old friend. I shall love to."


	2. Patiently Awaiting for Something New

The soft jazzy music was playing in the background of Gabriel's, John Watson's favorite Italian restaurant. There he sat patiently, waiting for his Mary Morstan to show up. He could never get that woman out of her mind; her soft smile and glowing eyes always made his heart flutter, and he felt as if he had found his soul mate. He finally found love, and he couldn't be happier.

She walked across the room, her head held high, her bright smile always brightening the room. He looked at her with loving eyes, and the rosy blush of her cheeks painted her face. _God she is so beautiful_, he thought to himself. She laughed like she knew exactly what the doctor was thinking.

"You like my new dress," she looked down at her knee length black dress, tight around her stomach, then puffing out at her hips. And John could not keep his eyes off of her.

"Gorgeous," he breathed out. "Absolutely gorgeous." John stood up and went behind her, kissing Mary's cheek and tucking her in when she sat down on the seat. "How are you, Mary?"

"I've been good. The school children were somewhat crazy today, but thank goodness it is a Friday. I swear though, not one of the teachers knows what they are doing!"

"Then you should become the principal of the school," he suggested.

"Yeah, I wish," she added, shaking her head. "Oh well, they will figure out sooner or later that yelling at the children instead of properly punishing them will have a negative outcome in the end."

Back and forth they talked about how the day went, how John's new job was going, and about other stuff that only normal people would find interesting.

"So the nurse said to Mrs. Wethers, my patient, to-" he stopped midsentence, as he heard a familiar voice approach them. He cocked his head in frustration, and huffed out a breath.

"Hello John, Mary," Sherlock added, nodding at the woman.

"Sherlock, I am kind of busy at the moment."

The detective took the seat between them. "Yes, so I see but John, I have a case!"

"How many times do I have to lecture you Sherlock about interrupting us, I am on a date with Mary for Christ sakes! Your cases can wait another time."

"John this is important-"

"Sherlock, this has been the fifth time this year that you have taken me away from a date," John said in a hushed tone, trying to conceal his anger.

"John-"

"The. Fifth. Time. Sherlock," he separated his words to add a point. And Sherlock just stared, almost as irritated as John Watson himself.

Mary Morstan sat there, trying her best not to laugh at loud. The boys bickering was hysterical to her, and the two were aware of that fact. "John, it's alright. Go along with Sherlock. We can have a makeup date for this." She looked at Sherlock. "You so owe me."

The detective could only smirk, and he stood up. "So that's that. Let's go John!"

The other man stood up hesitantly, and pecked Mary's lips. "Until next time then?"

"Of course," and she caressed his cheek.

Sherlock had to practically drag his partner out of Gabriel's, not wanting to leave John with his girlfriend for another almost snogging session.

"Sherlock, would you hold on? Let go- Let go of my arm dammit! What was that for?"

"I didn't want you to get all flustered right there in the restaurant, when I actually need you for a case."

He ignored that comment. "What case?"

"Something interesting. We need to go undercover."

"Undercover? I am in my nicest clothes!"

"They are not nice enough. I got you a tux."

"A tux," John asked uncomfortably. "Did you get my right size?"

"Your right size? Well why would you ask that? Of course I got your right size!"

"Are you sure? Because, well, do you even know your own size of…" his voice faded off, not knowing how to refer to his partner's tightness of his shirts.

"What are you trying to say John?" Sherlock oblivious to the hint.

"Um, nothing." John only responded. The awkwardness of the moment hung in the air for a short moment, and then Sherlock continued.

"Anyways," he cleared his throat, "as I was saying, we are going undercover as servants in a party."

"And where is this party?"

"It is near London, at the Magnussen Manor."

"I've never heard of it before."

"Well of course not. Your average mind isn't observant enough. That is why I am here," he said nonchalantly.

All the doctor did was he rolled his eyes. He was far more than used to receiving these types of comments from the ignorant consulting detective. It was the price of being best friends with a genius. "And what is the case about, if I may ask?"

They walked the London streets, and Sherlock explained. "Charles Magnussen has been on my radar for quite a while. He has been a nuisance to many, and no matter how much I try, I cannot get any evidence on him. He is smart, but I am smarter," he added, with a smile on his face. "And I think he has finally tripped up. They all do."

He continued to talk as he hailed a cab. "So our goal is to sneak into the party unnoticed, disguise ourselves as waiters, and sneak into his office. I heard the compromising information is located there, and once we get it, we can get the hell out of there and continue with our boring lives. Okay?"

"Yes yes fine Sherlock, but I don't like it. It's dangerous, not to mention illegal."

"Since when of what we have done been legal? Once, Lestrade will vouch for us. He owes me more than a few favors."

John smiled slightly at that. It was true. Without Sherlock Holmes, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade would be in a pit full of unsolved cases, and they all knew that. "Fine, but we will get this over with as soon as humanly possible."

"Yes John, of course." And they arrived at the Magnussen Manor, the entrance busy, filled with cars and drivers. "As soon as we get into the mansion, it will be busy enough that no one will notice. We will find a bathroom and change. Then we will blend in."

"Got it," John nodded his head, and they jumped out of the cab.


	3. An Awkward Night

As the two men snaked through the crowd of fancy looking people, John desperately searched for a bathroom with Sherlock, his tuxedo wrapped in his arms. Sherlock found one immediately, and the doctor silently cursed his small height.

"In here John, this should be good."

When they entered, John almost had to place a hand under his jaw. Even the bathrooms in this mansion were gorgeous. The golden black marble floor held their feet strongly, and the dimmed lights made the washroom seem more comforting. Sherlock just shook his head.

"John, you really need to shut up. Your thoughts are screaming in this room, and I can't think."

"Oh for Gods sakes Sherlock…" John only just rubbed his eyes, and he entered into a stall. "So tell me again what the plan is."

The consulting detective only huffed an agitated breath. He always hated to repeat himself. "John, as I have said previously, we are disguising ourselves as waiters, serving the food and passing out drinks, and all that other boring stuff," he waved a dismissive hand at no one. "We will locate Charles Magnussen, and once we know that he is occupied, we will break into his office and grab the material."

"And what exactly is this material, Sherlock?" He stepped out of the stall, and went to the mirror so he could tie his bow tie.

"I will tell you when we get there."

"Which means you don't exactly know what it is."

"I never said that-"

"Yes, but I have known you for years. You truly are an idiot."

"And you're an idiot for coming with me."

"Point taken, but you did in fact drag me out of my date."

"She gave me permission," Sherlock responded curtly.

John only shook his head and chuckled. The detective had a sharp mouth and the maturity complex of a twelve year old at times. He finished up with his bow tie, and Sherlock strode into the stall afterwards. John continued to talk.

"Will there be one time that I can have a date with my girlfriend in peace?"

"Yes, when you finally propose to her," Sherlock mockingly sneered while he pulled his dress clothes on. John only went quiet. "John… You're not going to-" he voice trailed off.

"Sherlock, I think I've found the girl of my dreams," John blurted.

"But. But. It's Mary!"

"And Mary means everything to me."

The stall cracked open, and Sherlock slowly stepped out. "You are serious about this then?"

"I am," John only responded, waiting for the other man's reaction.

"I am happy for you then. My biggest congratulations to you," and the detective looked at John with his piercing blue eyes. "I mean it." And he did.

The doctor shifted his weight, somewhat uncomfortable in the position he was in. "Thank you Sherlock. That does mean a lot to me."

It was Sherlock's turn to put his bow tie on. It took him a while to get his skilled fingers to put, as he called it, "the blasted most pathetic piece of material he has ever laid hands on" on. And John only stood to the side, smiling.

* * *

A man who stood tall with a glass of champagne, with his smugness and self-empowering extremely present to all those who talked to him. He was an older man, with his gray hair present in his hair and light beard. Behind his eyes, one could see his coldness, the light of playfulness in his eyes as he liked to watch other squirm and surrender to his demands. He was truly the most the most notorious and cruel blackmailer in all of Britain, and just possibly the world. And that man had an eye on some prey. And Magnussen would get what he wanted from his victim.

"Charles, darling, is there anything I can get you?" a woman beside him asked, and he looked at her.

"Ah, Agatha, not at the moment, thank you. All I need you to do tonight is to relax and keep an eye out for any mischievous activity."

"Yes sir, as always," his maid said in return, and nodded her head.

He looked at her completely. Her fiery red hair stuck out in the crowd, and her tight short dress outlined her body, barely leaving anything to the imagination. "Well go along now Agatha, you know what to do…"

* * *

It was John who finally spotted the host of the party. Charles Magnussen was near the table of party snacks eating a piece of cheese when John pointed him out to Sherlock. Sherlock's hands were occupied with a tray of drinks, and he looked at John, telling him to keep an eye on their target as he went back into the kitchen.

John did so patiently, and his companion was hasty enough to be back by John's side in the matter of minutes.

"He is busy with a future business partner at the moment. Now is our time to go."

"Let's get this over with," the doctor sighed. They looked around, checking their surroundings for the all clear, and they jogged up the stair steps somewhat concealed from plain view.

It took them only a minute to find the gigantic room that housed Magnussen's office. Once again, John was in awe of the spectacular room he stepped in.

"Seriously though, how in the world do you get so much money to work in _this_ environment?" he asked no one in particular.

"By blackmailing the right people John. The rich ones who won't go to the police because the evidence held against them are so deep." Sherlock responded with his voice distant. His head was already buried in the file cabinets and drawers that were once locked.

The doctor just bounced on his toes and waited, somewhat keeping a look out for anyone that might come. "Sherlock, this is so illegal, and from what I've heard from you tonight, this isn't safe."

"Since when do we do "safe" John? I didn't even think that was a term in my line of work…"

"Oh just please hurry up!"

And ten minutes passed with Sherlock scavenging for the material he was searching for, so far unsuccessful, and John looking around the office, still awe stricken about the lavish office that the criminal had. John sighed heavily in impatience, and Sherlock growled in impatience. They didn't even hear the door open they were so focused on what they were doing.

"You want to know what I find interesting," an unfamiliar voice rang into the office. Everything froze, and John was too afraid to look at where the low voice was coming from. "I specifically hired fifteen waiters tonight to serve at my party, and there are fifteen downstairs at this moment. When I saw seventeen earlier, I was wondering who were the rats that let themselves in. I thank you for showing me unintentionally!"

Sherlock's head slowly popped up behind the desk, and he looked at the tall man that owned the office. "Ah Charles Magnussen, I was hoping we would run into each other soon. But unfortunately, not under this pretext."

"As I live and breathe! The infamous Sherlock Holmes, desperately searching my office to save a woman from a good scandal. How noble of you." The blackmailer mocked. "And this man must be Doctor John Watson," he added, looking at the man that was faced away from him. "So, how successful was your search?" Charles asked lightheartedly.

John turned around to face the man, and Sherlock answered. "You know the answer to that."

"Well of course I do. This is my premise; I know where everything is located at all times, _especially_ my work. Don't underestimate my capabilities Mr. Holmes; it may land you into some trouble."

"And I don't," he responded while clearing his throat.

Charles pointed at the door. "I am assuming you know your way out then?"

Sherlock strolled with his head high to the door. Before he stepped through, he faced Magnussen. "We shall be meeting again I assume?"

"Only naturally Mr. Holmes. I have a few tricks up my sleeve specifically for you…"

The detective only stared at him lamely and sniffed. "Come along John. I have suddenly lost interest in this party."

John stalked his best friend out of the room, and they left the mansion as soon as possible. John's face was hot red with embarrassment. And that was one hell of an awkward night…


	4. The Foundations of a Kingdom

She sat slumped in her chair… or her throne as she called it. In her kingdom, or warehouse as it was now, it was empty besides the seventeen year old girl and her loyal companion by her side. Her eyes were a fierce green; her hair curled naturally and dyed a red brown. She liked to think of it as the blood of those who have done wrong in the world painted her hair, and she was proud of it; she wore it like a trophy. Her fingers tapped on the armrest of her chair, and she looked at the large empty cement floor that lay in front of her. Sebastian Moran shifted his weigh, and Julianne looked at him.

"I have been waiting patiently for my army to grow, and it is almost complete," she said to no one in particular.

"Yes, yes it is. I myself have been waiting for this moment also. Your brother would be proud."

"If Moriarty was to see me now, would he really be that proud of me?" Julianne questioned, suddenly very curiously.

"Of course. And he would be happy that I trained you well…"

She sighed, once again uninterested. "I did run the Pythons quite well, haven't I? I raised enough money for everything, even my army, in half the time my brother expected. And I am damn proud of myself! Uggghhhhh…" she shifted into an interesting position on her chair, with her legs draped over her left armrest. "I am so. Incredibly. Bored! Is this how James felt before he started messing with Sherlock's mind?"

"I think he was more bored than you are. You seem to be enjoying the fact that you have been extremely successful in running a ginormous drug trade organization in London, actually the biggest in Europe."

"Oh Seb, I can take down the government soon. It's so close I can taste it. If only this process was faster…" she paused, and sunk into a deep thinking. "Uggghhhhhh," she finally moaned after a few minutes.

"What is it, Moriarty?" the hit man questioned her.

"Don't call me Moriarty, I am not my brother. I was moaning because I have to talk to that blasted Mycroft soon. Never spoken to him directly before, always with letters. It should be interesting I hope. I've heard he can be quite a buzz kill."

"I am surprised you have never texted him before. You are always on your phone."  
"Yeah, well I like to be old fashioned with cases like this. After I can get through him and Scotland Yard, we are in the all clear to move on with our plans. But then there is Mycroft's brother…"

"Yes, Sherlock Holmes, what are you planning to do with him?" Sebastian Moran asked somewhat quickly; he was curious about the answer.

"I don't plan to play him like my brother for one thing. James learned that lesson in the grave. I will probably be straight forward with him. If he gets in my way, I will bring his world down without hesitation. So many people are at my disposal, he would be a complete idiot to stop me. Maybe offer a few ultimatums… Those are always fun."

"Yes, no doubt you already have something planned."

"I at least have a few tricks up my sleeve. What type of revolutionary leader would I be if I didn't have that?!" she laughed.

"Starting to call yourself 'revolutionary' eh? Want to sound better than being called a terrorist?"

"As much as I would love to call myself that, there is an image I must contain. If I start going around spilling all my plans, I would need a hell of a lot more money to manage what we're about to do."

Sebastian only laughed and shook his head. "That is true Julianne. Too too true."

"But anyways," she continued, her voice low, "I wish that this process was quicker. It's annoying…"

"Think about it this way: If there wasn't so much time in between all of our steps, our organization would get squashed immediately. And there is no need to rush a good thing."

"I suppose that's true," she sighed her irritated sigh. "Mycroft Holmes. Visiting him soon."

"Why do you sound so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous!" Julianne snapped back. "Just annoyed. But I do look forward to the look on his face when I tell him to step down from office. I should sneak a camera in there so I can relive the moment, over and over again. And then maybe I can talk in the Diogenes Club's meeting room, give a few older men heart attacks," she joked.

"Sounds like a charming idea. Have you decided what you are going to say to Mr. Holmes yet?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Julianne changed the subject again. "Go call someone to feed me grapes or something. That's what kings get don't they? People that feed 'em grapes? I've always loved my fruit," smiling, she kicked at her seat. She sniffed, and continued. "You have taught me well. Are you proud of your creation?"

"I am proud of anyone of Moriarty's blood. I am proud to serve you and guide you through your task. I am proud that-"

"Yeah yeah I get it," the impatient teenager mumbled. They both looked at each other and their tacit agreement was shared through their eyes. They both smiled. "This world will be ours, it will be at our mercy. But for now, we deal with this." She waved her right hand around the empty warehouse.

"Mind you that there is a rally again tonight. We have more members…"

"It's amazing what money and frenzy can buy."

"It comes with a good leader, one who can add motivation with a ting of fear in a crowd's heart," Moran added.

"Naturally, I can do fear. They are all fools to believe that I will help them out in the end. In my eyes, they are just pawns going on a suicide mission. Those poor people don't know that it is either side that will kill them; the government or me. Anyways, they are all dead…"

"There is just no mercy in your wrath, is there?"

"Of course not Seb! If I had mercy I would be so so weak. You've taught me better than that!" Julianne exclaimed.

"Yes I have, as your brother has taught me."

"I wish I would have known him better. I only knew him for a couple days before he… you know…"

"I do. It is a shame, but he killed himself for a reason. And he has you to complete his legacy."

"No. It is my legacy. He wanted to have fun, but I mean business. That is the difference we have as siblings. I was raised by a man who ran a business. I may have hated my adopted family, but I did learn a few things from Liam," she sneered at her adopted father's name. The mentioning of him made her fierce with anger.

"You will release your anger when it is time, Julianne. Keep it bottled inside; it will motivate you to do much greatness in your future. Liam is dead and by Harold's hands."

"It was very poetic, wasn't it," she smirked smugly, once again her mood dramatically shifted. "I always have the perfect plans."

"And that is the pure truth." Sebastian Moran encouraged.

"Patience is key for this type of business… and what a hell of a time that we have had together. After all these years and look where we are now. I can smell the war at a distance, my mouth waters for it. It is almost time."

"Yes it is Julianne… Yes it is…"

In response, she only laughed. "Soon… Very very soon…"


	5. Manipulation is Key

Sherlock busted through his flat door at 221B Baker Street with his loyal companion behind it.

"No, I was wrong about one thing," John panted, and sat down on the leather sofa when he entered the living room.

"And what was that?" Sherlock asked, somewhat curious.

"That was definitely the most idiotic and dangerous thing I have ever done in my life. For God sakes Sherlock we go caught!"

"Yes… well I fear we will have to suffer the consequences later. For now, I got my data."

"Data? Sherlock, what in the world are you talking about?" As always, John Watson was confused as ever.

"Do you really think I would break into Charles Magnussen's office just for one single case? By going through his things, I understand his personality better."

"Mind sharing then, if you please?"

"He has had a very long and successful career because he is smart and careful. He has no remorse for his actions, _obviously_, and has never felt guilty for anything in his adult life. His childhood was hard, and he tries to hide himself from it, hence why there are no pictures of anyone in his life after the age of twenty. He has a weakness for alcohol, and likes to drink his whiskey. I can go on, but I do not wish to bore you, my dear Watson."

"So not only did we break in to find evidence that was so well hidden, but your main cause for going there was to do a psychoanalysis on a blackmailer. I fail to understand-"

"Your average-mind John! Think! With this information, it will be easier for me to root him out, and throw him into jail. He has had plenty enough victims, and I am sure they all want closure. I am not doing this just because it is an interesting case."

John sighed, and he laid down on the couch. "You are so intolerable at times, you know that?"

"You still live with me."

"Sadly."

"You like the adventure, the danger."

"I shall say again, sadly."

The consulting detective smiled at that. "So about Mary, you think she is the one for you?"

"I know you are changing the subject, and yes. I have known for a long time."

"When are you going to propose? Wait let me guess: Given the fact that the ring is on you at all times, you haven't decided yet. You want to ask her, but you are too afraid knowing about her career and yours. Although, I believe that this logic is stupid, you trying to find an excuse for not doing it."

"And I will also say this again. You are so intolerable at times." John sighed, angry that Sherlock always knew.

"Yes, well, that is my job."

"You do make a passion for being an annoying dick-"

"All the time, I have heard time and time again."

The doctor chuckled and stared at the ceiling. "What do you think Magnussen is going to do?"

Quietness filled the flat for so long that John looked at Sherlock with some concern. "I honestly have no clue. I guess it will be a surprise."

"I've never liked surprises…"

"Me neither John. Me neither."

* * *

"Are the preparations almost ready, Seb?" Julianne asked in a hushed tone. She hid behind a stage as shouts were heard. It was her rally, and the crowd called for only one person. Her.

"Of course," Moran responded nonchalantly.

"There are a lot of men here that are not trained with a weapon. You will help the professionals train them with our shipment of guns. I want them well trained. I require a well-disciplined army, and I know you can keep track of the things that need watching. I can handle the rest."

"I understand Julianne," he bowed his head. "Your people call for you."

"The sound of cheering, of anger, of frenzy. That's what helps me fall asleep at night. I long for the sound of guns shots, the smoke rising over the city of London." She stopped herself. "You're right. My people call for me. You know the plan. I will see you in a week. Good luck."

Julianne watched as the hit man left her, stalking to the door and waving. She nodded her head, and she headed to the stage. And the crowd went nuts.

The previously empty cement floor was filled with hundreds of people, the warehouse loud and lively for people looking for a revolution. The teenager looked around at her surroundings, and she instantly felt at home. Her breath became heavy, her mind only on the passion of what she was about to say. She smiled her smug little smile. _Those fools._

And then Julianne spoke. "My people! Welcome!" She raised her hands, and the mob settled down, desperate to hear her precious words. "Thank you for all coming today. We must have a little chat about a few important things tonight.

"Our government has suppressed us citizens for many years, and it is time for the people to rule! We have been treated unfairly. Homelessness has increased dramatically, our rights are taken away, we are monitored in everything we do! Hell, privacy is only a mere fantasy these days!" She paused, and her people went wide with anger. She raised her hands again.

"We must show the government who really runs this country. We fear the government when we shouldn't have to! As the people of this corrupted nation, it is our duty to take back what is rightfully ours!" Julianne through a fist in the air for emphasis, and so did the rest of the mob. "For all of those who have shown up tonight, you are all brave. You are all smart. You want to take a better direction for us, for our future. Our children will look back on this historical day, and they will be proud to know that a mother, a grandfather, an aunt, an uncle were here today, doing this for them! Let us show London, England, Europe, hell, the rest of the world what we stand for. So I ask you; who is with me tonight? Who will pledge their allegiance to me, to take charge of their lives? Who will come with me to lead the others too scared to stand up for themselves? For those who do join my organization, you will go down in history, to be admired by so many thousands of years from now!"

People screamed in the frenzy Julianne created. Her words struck the hearts of many, and already people would lay their lives for her. She waited once again for her crowd to calm down until there was a soft mummer of voiced.

She stated softly, and the people leaned in to hear her better. "My people, we have been treated horribly for so long… Don't we deserve better?" Julianne faked a few tears, and her mob felt much sympathy towards her. "The government abused my parents, tortured my dear poor brother. And there is one man who is behind that. That man is a major influence on the British Government. And he is responsible for the death of my family." She stopped once again, and shed a few more tears. She gained her composure again. The seventeen year old cleared her throat and began again. "Should it be these types of corrupt politicians that should run our country? I don't know about you, but I feel that we deserve better. You may ask why I dedicate my time to this, and I will answer. I want to prevent any other injustices that could, and will occur, if the government is not stopped. I do this for you," she pointed at the crowd, "because you all deserve better. So I shall ask again; who is with me?"

Everything was dead silent, the crowd so wrapped up in the emotional speech that this beautiful young girl just gave.

"I am," a strong voice said, finally breaking the silence. Julianne looked up, the fake tears still in her eyes.

"And so am I," another voice announced.

"And I!"

"And me too!"

Then the crowd began to get louder and louder, starting off softly until people were yelling, swearing themselves to her.

"Thank you… Thank you!" Julianne finally cried. "I need your attention again please! There is a book besides the stage. Print your name into it, and your name shall go down in history! Make the ones around you and the future proud of your choices! With the strength of my people, we will prevail!"

She stepped off the stage, and the crowd made way for her. She walked over to the big book located on a podium located next to the stage, picked up the pen, and signed her name. She turned around, and she left to go backstage. It was hours before the last person had left, with over four hundred signatures. She smirked to herself. This wasn't even including the member of the Pythons, and there were several hundred of them at her disposal. _Tonight was a successful night and there shall be several more like it… _


End file.
